


Blues in Her Soul

by ThreeBulletNecklace (That_L_Chap)



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blues, Blues Dancing, Chloe is a dance teacher, F/F, Fluff, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Lesbian Sex, Masturbation, Meet-Cute, Oral Sex, Portland, Romance, Sexual Tension, Slightly socially anxious Max, Slow Burn, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, dance fic, hella gay, no seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-01 06:34:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12150747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_L_Chap/pseuds/ThreeBulletNecklace
Summary: Alternate universe.Max Caulfield, recent resident of Portland, OR, is finding life in the city isn't exactly living up to her expectations. Instead of a hipster La Vie Boheme, she has no friends, a part time job that barely covers rent and camera film, and evenings that consist of burnt TV dinners.All that changes, however, when she meets the blue haired, confident, charismatic leader of a local blues dance class. Will romance bloom between the two? I mean, probably, yeah. Just look at the tags on this thing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As of this writing, today is September 21st, so a Hella Happy Birthday to our lovable hipster Max Caulfield.
> 
> More notes down below, and I hope you enjoy the first part of this fic. I obviously don't own Life is Strange either.

**Blues in Her Soul**

The stinging, shrieking beep of the outdated smoke alarm tears her from a bout of uncomfortable slumber. Max Caulfield rockets up from her inadvertent sleeping spot on the couch, blinking wildly as her primary senses are briefly overloaded by the insistent beeping. She's confused for a moment, bamboozled while her brain struggles to throw off the shackles of sleep, snap into gear, and work out just what the hell is making that fucking _noise_. After a second or two, her synapses make the necessary connections, and she bolts into the kitchen.

Thick, acrid smoke is billowing out of her crappy little over, mixed with the eye-wrinklingly disgusting smell of melting plastic. Max grabs an oven mitt and yanks the oven door open. She reels back, coughing heavily when a blast of heated air and smoke hits her directly in the face. With a speed borne of sheer panic, she grabs the oven tray and quickly shoves it onto a counter top. Next, she turns her attention to the still-shrieking smoke alarm, and jabs at it with a broom handle. After a few unsuccessful pokes, she manages to hit the reset button, and her battle with the smoke alarm comes to a thankful end as the kitchen falls blessedly silent.

She turns an eye to the oven tray. Her ready-meal-for-one is a blackened, inedible ruin, charred beyond all recognition and covered in rapidly cooling clumps of plastic packaging.

“Shit. God damn fucking _shit_ fuck!” She curses. She tries to hurl the mess into the trash can, but misses. The destroyed meal instead crumbles all over the surface of the trash can and the floor. “Twat!” She swears loudly, half at herself, half at the stupid fucking ready meal for refusing to get in the stupid fucking trash can.

She angrily grabs a broom and sweeps the debris into a dustpan, and then, _ever so carefully_ dumps the blackened mess into the trash. Having conquered the task of cleaning, she blows a raspberry and flips the bird at the trash. The trash, predictably, does not respond.

For some reason, the lack of response sucks the wind from Max’s metaphorical sails. She slumps down onto the floor, resting her back against the cheap wood of the kitchen draws, and shoves her face into her knees.

Life in Portland hadn’t exactly measured up to her expectations, she finds herself reflecting. When she’d moved to the city, Max had entertained a vision of _La Vie Boheme_ ; a life filled with eccentric people, love, hipsterism and photography – her passion in life.

But none of that had been forthcoming. Instead, she had no friends, a crappy apartment, and her part time job in one of the hundreds of vegan-friendly organic grocery stores was barely enough to keep her stocked up on film for her beloved Polaroid camera.

All in all, life kind of sucked.

Max grumbles to herself and shoves herself back up off the floor. She heads back into what passes for a living room and collapses face first onto the couch. She’s all set for a full-on pity party for herself, but before she can really get into it, the TV interrupts her with the beginning of yet another reality show about brainless, talentless celebrities.

She casts a baleful eye at the offending equivalent of TV bile, and fumbles for the remote. She extricates it from its temporary prison between the couch cushions, and flicks through the channels. Nothing captures her interest beyond a superficial level, so she ends up settling for a re-run of _Back to the Future_. Even before Marty makes it back to 1955, she’s fast asleep.

  
********

  
Max opens one bleary eye. Light is streaming through the window, hitting her in the face. “Fuck off.” She tells the sun. When it doesn’t immediately fuck in the direction of off, she groans, and pushes herself up into a sitting position. Her cheek feels weird, so she presses a hand to it, and brings it away, covered in drool. “Eww. Gross, Max.” She tells herself.

Her next problem manifests in the form of a complaining bladder. Max forces herself onto her feet, wavering a little when her balance doesn’t catch on quite as fast as it needs to. She shuffles to the tiny bathroom, and relieves her insistent bladder. When she’s done, she doesn’t bother pulling her pants back on, and instead yanks her slightly musty shirt off and hops into the shower.

Even though she hates almost everything in the apartment, the shower is not one of them. A steady torrent of steaming hot water blasts down from the stainless steel showerhead, running in dozens of little rivulets down her skin. Max tilts her head back and slicks her hair away from her forehead. A moan escapes her throat, and she wishes the showerhead wasn’t bolted to the wall. A stream of water that powerful would definitely have some uses other than simply cleaning her.

When she’s done showering, Max shuts off the water, not without a hint of regret, and quickly towels herself dry. She wanders into her bedroom, and pulls out a pair of jeans, a well-loved grey hoodie and plain white tee from her wardrobe. She doesn’t bother with a bra.

Just as she’s exiting her bedroom, her stomach grumbles, shockingly loud in the quiet apartment. “Right, yeah. Food.” She says to herself, remembering the failed attempt at dinner the previous night. She knows there’s basically nothing in the fridge worth making, so she grabs her purse and rifles through it, in search of enough change to buy breakfast. Thankfully, there’s just about enough to get a bagel from her favourite place: a stand in the nearby park owned by a friendly Israeli man.

“Score!” She jingles the coins in her hand and grins. She grabs her bag, shoving her beloved Polaroid in for good measure, and heads out the door.

  
********

  
Fifteen minutes later, Max is happily munching on a cream cheese, smoked salmon and sesame seed bagel. She wanders through the park, absent mindedly taking in the early morning sights; mostly joggers and the occasional yoga class. Max has been meaning to join one, but honestly, what sane person wants to get up at too-fucking-early-o’clock and try to turn themselves into a human pretzel?

With a stab of regret, Max notices the bagel is almost gone. She pops the last bite into her mouth and licks a blob of cream cheese off her index finger. She crumples the left over paper up and tosses it into a nearby trash can. She’s just about to start on wondering what to do for the rest of her day before inevitably giving up and going home, when she looks up, and her eyes fall on a rhapsody in blue.

Her eyes go wide, and time itself seems to distort and slow down to a crawl. The woman in front of her is the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen; a vision in a white tank top, beanie and scuffed high top boots. Her almond shaped, pale face is framed by a messy bob of bright blue hair that Max finds impossible to look away from. An intricately detailed sleeve of tattoos winds its way up her right arm, covering the otherwise pale skin in an explosion of colour.

Max is entranced. She can’t look away even if she wanted to. She’s pretty certain her mouth is hanging open like a total idiot, but she’s powerless to stop it. Her heart skips a beat when the ( _totally fucking gorgeous_ ) woman in front of her looks up and makes eye contact. She looks right at Max, with eyes the colour of a bright winter morning. She looks right at Max and _smiles_ , and all Max wants to do is get lost in her smile, or maybe turn into a Max-coloured puddle and trickle away. She isn’t sure which.

She’s so lost in her own thoughts that it takes a few seconds for the social part of her brain to catch up, and realise the woman is talking to her.

“Hey there!” She’s saying, the friendly smile still gracing her face.

When Max doesn’t respond, and just opens and closes her mouth a few times like a dumbstruck fish, the smile fades into a look of concern.

“Dude, you alright?” She asks.

Max blinks a few times. “Yeah. Uh. Just.” She responds. She points up at the sky. “Early.”

The smile reappears. “Tell me about it. Who the hell wants to be up at this time in the morning? Especially on a weekend, am I right?”

Max’s brain still hasn’t quite gotten to the point of fluent conversation. “Weekend. Yes.”

This earns her a curious smirk and a critical eye cast over her appearance. “Rough night?”

“I – something like that.” Max manages to answer, in a reasonable amount of time. The stranger’s gaze still hasn’t left her, making Max incredibly aware of her un-brushed hair, lack of makeup and generally scruffy appearance.

“Well, I know exactly how to fix that.” The grin is back in full force again. “Here.” She hands Max a pamphlet.

“Blues dancing?” Max reads. She’s heard of blues music before, but never thought that it had a particular dance attached to it.

“Yup. I teach a local class. Interested?”

“I – I’ve never really danced before.” Max stammers. “I don’t know how.” She confesses further.

The grin doesn’t waver for a second. “Perfect! I love blank slates, and the class is geared towards beginners anyway.”

Max is still unsure. She bites her lip. “I don’t know.”

“Dude, you’ll pick it up hella quick. Trust me.”

There’s something so genuine and honest in her smile that Max believes her, if only for moment.

“OK.” She finds herself saying.

“Awesome! It’s just round the corner from here, and the class starts more or less at seven. All the info’s on there.” The blue haired woman points towards the pamphlet.

“I’m Chloe, but the way. Chloe Price.”

Chloe sticks out a hand in greeting.

Max shakes it.

“Max Caulfield.”

A final grin flashes across Chloe’s face. “Alright, see you there, Max.”

And as suddenly as she burst into Max’s life, she’s gone.

Max stands there. Blinks for a few seconds. She doesn’t realise it, but she’s smiling.

  
********

  
For the rest of the day, Max can’t get Chloe out of her head. When she does her laundry, she’s thinking about Chloe. When she eats lunch, she’s still thinking about Chloe. And when she’s nervously getting ready to attend her first ever dance class, she’s _definitely_ thinking about Chloe.

Max has had crushes before, and even a brief relationship with a girl in college, but none of them have ever hit her this powerfully. It’s exciting and terrifying ( _holy shit is she scared_ ) all at once.

Max wonders what to wear. She wants to look nice (nice enough for Chloe to notice), but it’s only a dance class, so she doesn’t have to look too nice, right? She doesn’t want to make too much of an effort if, presumably, she’s going to be a sweaty mess by the end of it. In the end, she settles for a light grey dress, that hugs her figure – but not too much – and allows for a decent range of movement. She finishes off the outfit with a pair of clear tights and flat shoes. She’s always been useless with heels anyway.

“Alright, Max.” She says to her reflection in the mirror. “You can do this.”

Her reflection is indifferent.

Max sighs. “You’re not helping.” She says to her mirror self. She gives her hair one more brush, looks herself up and down and decides she probably isn’t going to look much better. “Here goes nothing.” Max says to try and encourage herself. It doesn’t work, but her newfound crush doesn’t care, and is forcing her onwards, grabbing the steering and demanding she go and obsess over a woman who is obviously _way_ out of her league.

Max sighs again, tells her inner worries to shut it, and exits her apartment.

  
********

  
A brisk twenty minute walk later, Max is stood outside the venue. It’s a retro-looking bar, with an ancient, broken down jukebox sitting just inside the door, which is covered with ads for local bands. Max hangs back for a moment, trying to summon the courage to walk in. Eventually, the rapidly cooling evening temperature forces her hand. She shivers, and walks in.

Max finds herself in a dimly lit corridor, which bends immediately to the left. It’s covered in yet more band posters, most of which she’s never heard of. Upon exiting the corridor, Max walks into the bar area. It’s almost empty, with only a few surly looking patrons dotted around, staring into the depths of their beer tankards. There’s no sign of Chloe, or any indication that Max is even in the right place.

At a loss, she walks up to the bar. The bartender – a hipster looking guy with impressively large sideburns – glances up from the glasses he’s cleaning, but otherwise doesn’t say anything.

“Hey, uh,” Max says quietly, “I’m here for the blues class?”

The bartender doesn’t respond, except to jerk his head in the direction of a set of stairs Max didn’t spot, that lead down into the basement.

“Oh right. Thanks.” Max says.

The bartender grunts.

“Charming.” Max says under her breath to herself.

When she descends the stairs, she emerges into a softly lit secondary bar, with a smooth wooden floor being the main feature. About twenty or so people are milling around, talking in small groups. Despite the relatively large size of the room, the lighting gives it a cozy, intimate feel. At the bottom of the stairs, Max is met by a desk, with a young woman with thick rimmed glasses and streaks of purple and red in her hair behind it. As Max approaches, she looks up and nods at her.

“It’s five bucks for the class.” She says, before Max can say anything.

“Oh. I, uh, don’t have any money on me.” Max says sheepishly.

The woman cocks an eyebrow. “You’re a newbie, right?”

Max nods. “Yeah.”

“In that case it’s cool. First class is always free, but after that, you gotta pay.”

“That’s actually a pretty smart way of doing things.” Max says.

“Yeah.” The woman nods. “Supposed to entice newbies. I guess it worked, I mean, you’re here.” She offers a smile. “I’m Brooke, by the way.”

“Max.”

“Nice to meet you. The class should start in about five minutes.”

Max gives her a thumbs up, and wanders into the middle of the room. A couple of people glance her way, but otherwise she doesn’t attract any attention. That is, until a man about her own age notices her looking around aimlessly, and makes his way over.

“I know that look.” He says, grinning. “Our illustrious teacher got to you, right?”

“Hi. Um, what?” Max says, confused.

He grins, and pats her on the shoulder. “Chloe. Every few months, usually when she’s looking to boost attendance, some poor, wide eyed person like yourself wanders in, having been charmed, cajoled or just generally persuaded by Chloe to come. That’s what happened to you, right?”

Max nods. “Pretty much. She’s hard to resist.” She says, a tiny blush creeping its way into her cheeks.

“Yeah, she’s charming like that. Hardly anyone ever manages to say no.” He says. Then, “Oh wait, I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Warren. You?”

“I’m Max.” She shakes his hand.

“Max, huh? Good to meet you. You probably met my girlfriend Brooke, you know, the lady on the door.”

Max nods. “Yeah, she seems nice.”

Warren looks over her shoulder. “Speaking of, I think she’s summoning me over. Catch you during the class, Max!” He leaves, and strolls over to Brooke.

After he’s left, Max stand around awkwardly, not knowing what to do. She hugs her left arm and rocks back and forth on her feet, waiting for something to happen, and feeling too nervous to go seek out conversation with other people. She’s never been great at initiating social contact, and she doesn’t feel like breaking the trend at this particular moment.

Thankfully, Chloe makes her entrance before Max can begin to feel too awkward and out of place. She comes barrelling down the stairs, seemingly without a care in the world. Her appearance is a total one-eighty from her punk get-up from earlier. She’s wearing high-waisted pants that do wonders for her long, shapely legs, and an old fashioned white blouse tucked into the pants. Her hair, instead of hanging down in a messy shock of blue, is styled neatly into a perfect victory roll. All in all, Max thinks, it’s a killer look, and judging from the sway of Chloe’s hips, she knows it too.

“Alright bluesers, class is in session.” She announced when she hits the bottom of the stairs. “Form a circle, and we can get started with the warm-up.”

The general chatter ceases, and her learners dutifully form a rough circle in the middle of the floor. Chloe strides into the centre, looking utterly in her element.

“Tonight is gonna be a pretty chill class.” She says. “We’ve got a couple of new faces,” She throws a wink Max’s way as she walks round the circle, “So we’re gonna cover the basic blues pulse and footwork, and work on getting the rhythm down, and maybe throw in a move or two if we’re feeling saucy later. Sound good?”

There’s a general murmur of assent from the class.

“Cool.” Chloe fishes a small remote out of a pocket, aims it at a laptop plugged into a speaker system, and presses a button. Blues music, led by an acoustic guitar and harmonica, and backed by solid, thumping percussion, emanates from speakers arrayed around the room.

“So. The blues basic pulse.” Chloe talks over the music. “Bend your knees and relax your frame, but don’t let it collapse. You wanna have your shoulders open, but not slouching.” She looks around the room. “Good. You’re all pretty much in the right posture. Now, shift your weight onto one foot. That’s it. Alright, now I want you to step onto your other foot, and cleanly transfer your weight. You should always have your weight on one foot or the other if you’re moving, and you’re always gonna be moving. So, step to the side onto your other foot, like you’re making the arch of a bridge, and then bring your other foot in to collect, pulse upwards, then step to the other side onto your first foot.”

Even though Chloe is only explaining the very first basics of the dance, Max is already confused. She tries her best, but the fluidity required seems to be beyond her. It doesn’t help that she’s constantly distracted by Chloe.

“Alright, everyone seems to have a handle on that for the most part, so now we’re gonna partner up, and see if we can do the same thing, but with a partner this time.”

 _Oh God no_. Max thinks. _I’m so hella sorry_ , she tries to mentally communicate to the smiling, unfortunate soul approaching her.

Her partner is pleasant enough, and probably more accommodating than they should have been, but Max is still embarrassed when her attempt at replicating the footwork with a partner goes about as stiff and awkwardly as she was dreading. It’s even worse with the next person after Chloe tells the class to rotate one partner along.

Max lasts another two rotations before making a feeble excuse and sitting the rest of the lesson out. She sees Chloe cast a quick look her way, and a frown flits ever so briefly across her face. Max considers just outright leaving, but decides she should at least stay and explain instead of vanishing.

  
********

  
When the class finally ends, it’s still a few minutes before people start to filter out, and even then Max can’t see an opportunity to talk to Chloe on her own. She has to wait until the majority of people have left before Chloe is free for more than a few seconds.

When she is free, though, it’s Chloe who approaches her.

“Hey Max.” She greets her, surprising Max by remembering her name.

“Hey.” Max says, still feeling embarrassed.

“You OK? I noticed you ducked out like halfway through.” She says, sounding genuinely concerned.

“Yeah.” Max rubs the back of her neck. “I’m just not sure if this is right for me, I couldn’t even get the basic stuff right.”

Chloe raises an eyebrow, pushes out her lips and taps her chin. “Hmm. Lemme see how you’re standing.”

Max does so.

Chloe smiles and nods. “Thought so. You’re carrying hella tension in your frame.” She looks around, making sure everyone has left. “Alright, c’mere. I’m gonna give you a private lesson.”

Max immediately blushes. “Oh, no, that’s OK, you don’t have to-”

“I know.” Chloe interrupts her, grinning. “But I want to, and this gal don’t take no for an answer.”

She smiles, dazzlingly, and Max’s resistance one again melts.

“OK.”

“Dude, yes!” Chloe exclaims. “I usually charge for these, but I can never resist a pretty girl, so.”

Max blushes again. Chloe notices.

“Relax, I’m just teasing. Now, let’s go through some stuff to get you to relax, starting with matching your partner.”

She positions herself in front of Max, about three feet from her. “OK, this is what’s called breakaway. It’s one of four ‘holds’ you get in blues. I want you to try and match my posture.”

As Max watches, Chloe bends her knees slightly, relaxes her shoulders, and sticks her butt out by a couple of inches. Max copies her.

“Good.” Chloe says. “That’s already looking better.” She takes one step forward, and takes Max’s left hand in her right. “This is the open hold. It’s good for when you wanna get out in front of your partner, but don’t want to let them go.”

Chloe takes another step forward, and slides her right arm around Max’s waist, her hand coming to rest in the curve of her back. Her left hand takes Max’s right, and holds it up next to them.

“This is closed hold, and the one you’ll see most often. Right now, I’m leading, and you’re following, though you can switch that anytime you want. All you have to do is just put your arm around my waist and reverse our hands, though honestly, you can still lead just with the arm around your follow.”

“What, so I can take the lead whenever? Even in the middle of dancing with someone?” Max asks.

“Yup.” Chloe grins again. “That’s the beauty of it. Blues dancing is like a conversation using movement. It’s not like ballroom or tango or whatever, where there’s a set lead/follow thing. We tend to switch it up.”

“I kinda like that.” Max says.

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool.” Chloe says. “Now, the last hold is close embrace.” She moves even forward, pressing herself almost flush against Max. Her arm drifts a little higher up Max’s back, strengthening the connection between them.

Max’s heart starts beating a mile a minute. She hadn’t counted on being in such close proximity on her newfound crush in so short a time.

“Relax.” Chloe says. “I can literally feel how tense you are. Take a deep breath, and then when you breathe out, try to just let go of everything.”

Max obeys, and takes a large amount of air into her lungs, holds it for a beat, then exhales.

“That’s good. I could feel you go all squishy.” Chloe praises her. “Perfect for blues.”

Max secretly feels a little proud, even if all she did was manage to relax.

“’kay, so, I’m gonna set a pulse going, and all I want you to do, Max, is stay relaxed, and follow along. That’s it. Think you can do that?”

Max nods. “I think so.”

“Awesome.” Chloe momentarily lets go of her hand, and pokes a button on the remote. The same song from the start of class begins to pipe through the speakers. Chloe takes her hand again, and begins to softly step from one foot to the other, collecting her feet on every step, and stepping every other beat. Max closes her eyes, and tries to follow. She breathes out again, and suddenly something seems to click, and she can feel every one of Chloe’s movements, and it’s the easiest thing in the world to follow along with them. Before she knows it, she’s pulsing from one foot to the other in time to the music, led all the while by Chloe.

“Dude, that’s perfect.” Chloe says softly, her mouth right next to Max’s ear. “You wanna try leading?”

Makes shakes her head. “Not right now, I don’t think I could.”

“Alright, maybe next time.” Chloe says, reassuringly.

They stay like that, just moving from foot to foot, until the song ends, and they move apart.

“I, uh, I actually enjoyed that.” Max confesses.

“I aim to please.” Chloe says, with a matter of fact tilt of her head. “Now, a break through like that deserves a drink. C’mon, I’m buying.”

Before Max can say anything, Chloe’s arm is back around her waist, and she’s leading Max up the stairs. When they emerge into the bar, she sits Max down at a table in the corner, and strides purposefully over to the bar itself. A couple of minutes later, she returns with two bottles of craft ale. She tried sets them down on the table, and sits opposite Max.

“Cheers.” She says. “To your first of many classes, I hope.”

“Cheers.” Max returns the toast, and clinks her bottle against Chloe’s.

“So, you haven’t been in Portland long, have you?” Chloe crosses her arms on the scuffed and pitted wood, and leans forward.

Max shakes her head. “I haven’t. Only been here like, three months, I think? I moved here pretty much straight after college.”

Chloe’s ears perk up. “Ooh, fancy. What’d you major in?”

“Photography. It’s been my passion ever since I was a kid.” She leans down, and digs her camera out of her bag. “Though I’m kinda on the retro side of things.” She says, almost proudly.

“Huh.” Chloe’s eyes narrow, and a smirk appears on her face. “I’ve just had an idea.”

“Am I gonna like this idea?”

“Maybe? So you know I said I usually charge for private lessons? Well, we’ve been trying to find an event photographer, but there’s like, fucking no one who wants to do it. How about I give you private lessons in exchange for taking photos of social events we have and stuff. I’ll even cut you in on the profits.” At this, she wiggles her eyebrows. “Whaddya say?”

Max considers for a moment. It doesn’t take her long to make a decision.

“Sure. Sounds good.” She agrees.

Chloe’s face lights up in glee. “Hella yes, Max!” She raises her bottle again. “To our awesomely successful future bid’ness partnership and stuff!”

Max laughs, and raises her own bottle.

  
********

  
Four beers later, and Chloe is walking a decidedly drunk Max home.

“’S just here.” Max slurs, pointing vaguely at her apartment building.

“Want me to help you get in?” Chloe offers.

“Nah, ‘s’alright. I can – urp – I c’n do it.” Max hiccups.

“OK, if you’re totally sure.”

“Yeah, ‘m sh-sure.” Max attempts to smile, but it comes across more as a drunken grimace.

“Oh man, you can’t hold your beer like at all.” Chloe teases her. “Though I probably shouldn’t have kept buying you them. Anyway, stay safe, and I’ll see you next time, right?”

Max nods. “Hella.”

Chloe laughs. “You’re way too adorable.” She gives Max a quick, tight hug, kisses her on the cheek, and with those parting words, disappears into the night.

Max sways for a few seconds, touches her cheek where Chloe kissed it, then turns and stumbles towards her apartment.

Minutes later, when she’s lying in bed, legs spread and fingers working frantically under the hem of her panties, it’s Chloe she pictures in her mind. She’s usually fairly coy about her fantasies, but something about Chloe makes her picture the dirtiest, smuttiest things she can imagine, most of which involve Chloe eating her out in a multitude of different positions and places.

When she finally comes, eyes screwed shut, fingers pinching her clit and tremors wracking her body, it’s Chloe’s name that escapes her lips, first as a moan, then as a scream.

She slumps down against the pillows, panting and sweating. The force of her orgasm takes so much out of her that she barely manages to remove her hand from her panties before she’s fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. This ended up being hella long. So long that I actually had to cut it into two parts, because I really wanted to get it out by Max's birthday. I guess I half succeeded?
> 
> The second part will hopefully be out later today, or tomorrow at the latest. Leave a comment if you have something to say, all feedback is incredibly welcome (also I've never written a present tense thing, so tell me if it sucks). See you in a day or so.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is, finally; the second part I wanted to have out like 24 hours ago. I had family stuff to go to, so that's why it's a wee bit late (didn't have a chance to upload it, though it's been finished for a while now).
> 
> Lengthy note down below, so give that a read if you enjoy reading about thought processes and stuff. Anyway, here's part 2. Enjoy!

The next few weeks feel like they pass in a blur. Max barely pays attention to anything else in her life, all she can think of is getting to the weekend so she can see Chloe again. She’s not a terrifically fast learner, but under Chloe’s tutelage, she increases steadily in ability until she can easily keep up with the rest of the class. Every week, as well as dancing, she takes photos of the class for its official website and various social media accounts, and soon enough she’s listed as the class’ official photographer.

All the while, her crush on Chloe grows, not helped by Chloe’s frequent habit of convincing her to go out drinking after almost every class. Chloe always buys the drinks, even when Max protests otherwise. Max wonders about Chloe’s money situation, as the craft ales she favours definitely aren’t cheap, but she feels like it would be nosey or rude to bring it up.

She also finds out that Chloe gets, well, a little touchy-feely after a few beers. It isn’t much, a shoulder touch here, a hand resting on a knee there, but it’s enough to send Max’s usually-alcohol-infused system into sexually frustrated overdrive, resulting in her furiously masturbating the second she gets back to her apartment. Max even buys a cheap vibrator when her fingers aren’t enough anymore (she orders it online, there’s no universe where she wouldn’t be way too embarrassed to go into a sex shop).

Though as wonderful as her new toy is, it can’t quell the ever-increasing frustration Max feels whenever she’s around Chloe. She realises something has to break, sooner or later, otherwise she’s going to go insane. _Insane, or I’m gonna start humping her fricking leg in the middle of the dance floor_ , she thinks after yet another session with her vibrator (whom she’s christened Hawt Dawg Junior).

Unbeknownst to her, though, the breaking point she’s so desperately seeking is lurking right around the corner.

 

********

 

“Hey, so what are you doing after this?” Chloe asks her.

They’re cleaning up and packing away all the various bits and pieces needed for the class when she asks this. Max puts a loop of audio cables back into the relevant bag, and straightens up.

“Um, nothing I guess. I’d kinda assumed we were just gonna go drinking and stuff.”

Chloe winces. “Am I that predictable?”

Max walks over, reaches up, and pats her on the head. “I mean, yeah. You kinda are.”

Chloe holds her hands over her heart, reeling back as if struck by a mortal blow. “Oh! The lady doth wound me so!” She says, mockingly.

Max hikes an eyebrow. “Really?”

Chloe shrugs. “Anyway, you free?”

“Sure.”

Chloe looks at the floor, scuffing her boots back and forth on the smooth wood. “You, uh, wanna come back to my place? I’ve got like a ton of old blues vinyls that I never get to show off, and you like hipster stuff like that, so yeah.”

If she didn’t know better, Max would have thought she was nervous.

“Um. Yeah? Hipster stuff works.” She clears her throat. “I mean, sure, I’d love to.” She says, a little more assertively.

Just for a second, Chloe’s face lights up in delight. “Cool, cool.” She says, trying to sound nonchalant. “Let’s pack the rest of this shit, then we can head straight to my place.”

It doesn’t take long to clear the room, and soon enough they’re walking through the park along the riverside, heading for Chloe’s place. It only takes a few minutes to get there, which both women take as a blessing; the walk over is an awkwardly silent affair.

The silence, though, is immediately broken when Chloe gestures towards a riverside condo right in front of them.

“Well, here we are.” She says.

Max is floored. “Wait, you live _here_?” She says incredulously.

“Yup.” Chloe grins.

Max lets out a low whistle. “This is hella nice.” She says.

“You should see the inside.” Chloe says with a smirk, and opens the door.

Max’s jaw drops. Inside is a lavishly furnished, eclectically decorated apartment, with the decor ranging from old school blues, to punk and back again. Dozens of vintage band and record posters adorn the walls, interspersed with photos of Chloe herself with quite a few of the bands. The entire apartment has clearly had a sizable chunk of money sunk into it.

“ _Holy shit, Chloe_!”

“I know.” Chloe says casually.

“How in the fuck do you afford this place?!” Max asks her, still not quite believing Chloe _actually_ lives here.

“Ah, a lady has to have some secrets.” Chloe says. She winks and taps her nose.

Max’s mind is boggled. “Dude, are you like a drug dealer to the mafia or something?”

Chloe shoots her a look. “No, Max, I’m not a drug dealer for the mafia.”

“C’mon, Chloe, you gotta tell me.”

“Mm, maybe later.” Chloe teases her, and walks towards an open-plan staircase that leads up onto a second floor. “You coming?” She beckons.

Shelving her questions for now, Max follows. When she reaches the top of the stairs, she finds Chloe is leaning against a large set of display shelves.

“Ta-daa.” Chloe says, and gestures at the shelves. On them are hundreds of old vinyl records, spanning at least fifty years of music. In a large central space on the shelves rests a meticulously restored record player, and judging from the complete lack of dust on it, one that gets a lot of use.

Max is suitably impressed. “OK, that is officially awesome.” She says.

Chloe chuckles. “Figured it would suit your tragically hipster sensibilities down to the ground.”

Max ignores the jab at her (admittedly pretty overt) hipster-ness. “Can I hear how it sounds?”

The question earns her another ‘ _dude, really_?’ look. “Well, duh.” Chloe says. She spends a few moments selecting a record, passing over a couple of dozen before she picks one out. She sets it down onto the turntable, and lifts the needle. It begins to spin, and with a practiced movement, Chloe drops the needle expertly down onto the groove.

The sweet, soulful sounds of Etta James crackle through the speakers. The sound is rich, warm, even.

“Wowser.” Max says. “You actually _can_ hear a difference.”

“Totally.” Chloe sidles closer to her. “Modern digital stuff compresses the shit out of everything. Vinyl is like, legit ear sex.”

“Eww.” Max giggles.

Chloe rolls her eyes, but it’s affectionate, not derogatory. She reaches to her left, and turns a small chrome switch on the wall. A second later, the lights dim, creating an ambiance similar to the class she teaches. She holds out a hand.

“Dance with me?” Her voice is soft. Almost tentative.

“Of course.” Max unconsciously matches her tone.

When she takes Chloe’s hand, Chloe immediately raises it, drawing Max into an overhand spin. Max automatically pivots on her heel, and when she’s completed a full turn, finds Chloe stepped forward into her space. Chloe brings their linked hands down, and easily collects Max, sliding straight into close embrace, with an arm around Max’s back and a leg between Max’s knees.

They begin to dance, stepping on every half beat for smaller movements, and every beat for when Chloe decides she wants to travel across the room. They stay like this for the entire song, with Chloe leading, and Max following every step, turn, body isolation and roll of the hips Chloe sends her way. When the song ends, they don’t break apart, and instead stay close together. They’re conscious of one another’s breathing, which has deepened for both of them.

The record crackles, and the next song begins; a slow, electric organ-led number that’s almost begging for intimacy.

The two women start to move again, but the mood has shifted, ever so subtly. Chloe is still leading, but her touch is different from the usually confident, easy-to-follow way she dances when she’s teaching. Instead, it’s a little softer, a little more familiar. More... intimate. Her right hand drifts lower on Max’s back, her fingers ghosting over the curve of her lower back.

Max has to stop herself from shuddering.

“If I didn’t know better...” She says, her voice a shaky whisper. “... I’d say you were trying to seduce me.”

Chloe’s response almost stops her heart.

“What if I am?”

“Then I’d say you better not be lying...”

Chloe leans down, and their foreheads touch.

Max closes her eyes. She can feel their breath mixing together.

She wants nothing more than for Chloe to kiss her.

She wants this more than anything she’s ever wanted in her life.

“Max...” Chloe whispers.

The tips of their noses brush against one another.

Max’s breath hitches. Her heart hammers.

Chloe kisses her, and Max feels like time simply stops.

Her lips are soft, softer than Max could have ever imagined. She feels Chloe drag her lips across Max’s own, pushing at them softly, almost like asking a question.

 _Is this okay_?

Max kisses back, opening her mouth to draw more of Chloe in.

 _Of course it’s okay_.

Chloe’s hands move to encircle her waist. Max almost jumps when her fingers brush against the bare skin between the hem of her blouse and skirt.

Chloe pulls her closer, something Max is more than willing to go along with. She drapes her arms around Chloe’s neck, and leans even further in, pressing her body flush against Chloe.

The kiss deepens, growing more passionate by the second. Chloe’s hands roam up and down Max’s body, running down her spine, gripping her hips and moving down to squeeze her ass. Max squeaks. Chloe finds this adorable.

They break the kiss, each having run out of breath. Chloe has a dopey, infectious grin plastered across her face. Max is flushed, and looks like she’s experiencing the biggest dopamine rush of her life.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.” Chloe says, her voice low and husky.

“How long _you’ve_ been waiting?! I wanted to kiss you since the moment I met you!” Max protests.

Chloe draws back, her expression a mix of happiness and incredulity. “Wait, really?” She says.

Max doesn’t bother responding, and kisses her again. “Of course.”

Chloe grins again. “Wait, so we’ve both been crushing on each other for weeks now?”

Max blushes. “Yeah, I guess.”

Chloe laughs. “Oh man, I feel dumb. Like, I was trying to flirt with you all those times we went drinking, but I figured you didn’t notice ‘cos you were drunk as fuck, and I didn’t wanna take advantage.”

Max can’t believe her ears. “That was deliberate?! Do you know what all those little touches did to me?”

Chloe’s grin turns lascivious. “No, but I’d very much like to find out.”

Max flushes pink again. “Uh, well, every time you walked me home, after you left I would... Um...”

“You would _what_ , Max?” Chloe breathes, right into Max’s ear. She nips the earlobe, and a shudder races down Max’s spine.

“I’d fantasize about you... and get myself off.” Max confesses. She’s suddenly incredibly aware of Chloe’s knee between her legs, resting tantalisingly against her inner thighs.

A dark, hungry look clouds Chloe’s eyes.

“That’s so fucking hot.” She growls.

Before Max can respond, Chloe shoves her lips up against Max’s in a kiss so hard it bruises their lips. Firm hands make their way down to Max’s thighs, take a strong hold, and lift. Max squeaks again, but goes with it, wrapping her legs around Chloe’s waist as she’s lifted off the floor.

Chloe takes them swiftly to her bedroom, and, after a little difficulty with the door, carries Max through.

Max has a brief impression of more framed posters, as well as a couple of pieces of art featuring collages of photographs, mostly of female anatomy. Then, her world rotates ninety degrees, and she lands on an exceedingly comfortable bed. She looks down at Chloe, who’s stood, predator-like, at the foot of the bed. Max gestures to the photographs of female body parts. “Well, if I wasn’t sure you were into chicks already, this would be a pretty good sign.” She says, sardonically.

Chloe chuckles. “Oh, I’mma show you just how into chicks I am. Especially cute ones like you.” She starts forward, but stops almost instantly. “Wait, before this goes further. You’re OK, with this, right? Like, have you, uh done stuff? Y’know, with-”

“With a woman?” Max cuts her off. She shrugs. “I’ve had girlfriends before. Nothing totally serious, but I know my way around.”

“I’mma hold you to that.” Chloe says, still flirting.

“Get over here and I’ll show you exactly how I’m gonna hold you.”

Chloe smirks, and saunters over to the bed. She climbs onto it, and approaches Max on all fours, feline-like.

Max stretches out, crossing her legs at the ankles and resting her hands behind her head. Chloe crawls over her and kneels, her knees on either side of Max’s waist.

“Enjoying the view?” Chloe asks.

Max grins lopsidedly. “I guess.”

Chloe matches her grin, and begins to unbutton her shirt, revelling in how Max’s eyes zero in on each button she undoes. She slows down. Max bites her lip.

“Chloe!” She whines.

“What, I’m not allowed to tease you?” Chloe says, teasingly.

Max glares at her.

Chloe thinks this is adorable.

“I’m already horny as fuck because of your teasing.” Max complains, her voice bordering on keening. “Please, Chloe. Just fuck me already.” To emphasise her point, she lifts her skirt, drawing it up almost to the tops of her thighs, exposing just a sliver of lace panties.

This time, it’s Chloe’s turn to bite her lip. “Fuck...” She whispers.

“Yes please.” Max says.

Chloe laughs, and, without bothering with the rest of the buttons, removes her shirt. Her bra follows a few seconds afterwards.

Max’s eyes roam around Chloe’s upper body, taking in the lightly muscled stomach, pale skin, and pert breasts. She barely has a few seconds to appreciate it all, however, before Chloe descends on her, and begins covering her mouth, jaw and neck with kisses.

Max closes her eyes, relishing the attention. Her breathing quickly deepens, and soon enough she’s practically moaning into Chloe’s ear. She feels a hand travel down her side, and tug at the hem of her blouse. She arches her back, and Chloe yanks it upwards, both of them as eager as each other to get Max’s clothing off as quickly as possible.

There’s a brief pause in Chloe’s tongue-led assault on Max’s neck while the blouse is dragged up and over her head, but as soon as it’s gone (and unceremoniously flung across the room), Chloe’s lips are back on Max’s skin, kissing and licking hungrily, traveling downwards towards her breasts.

When she reaches the modest curves, Max is already a gasping mess, and her bra feels like an insurmountable obstacle between her flushed skin and Chloe’s warm, wet mouth.

“Chloe...” She moans.

Chloe needs no more hints. Instead of taking the time to undo the bra, she simply yanks it sharply downwards. Immediately, she takes a hard, pink nipple into her mouth, rolling it between her teeth and flicking with her tongue. She grabs Max’s other breast with her free hand, and pinches the nipple between two fingers.

“ _Oh god_...” Max moans. She feels like she’s turning to putty under Chloe’s expert touches. She arches her back, thrusting her chest towards Chloe’s talented hands and tongue.

Chloe smirks, and redoubles her attention on Max’s breasts. She lightly bites a nipple, and Max squeaks once more. It’s beginning to be one of Chloe’s favourite sounds.

“Chloe... please...” Max begs, sounding pent up enough to explode and rolling her hips, desperately seeking any kind of contact between her legs.

Chloe decides she likes the sound of Max begging even more than the squeaking.

“I like the way you say please.” She murmurs against Max’s flushed, sensitive breast.

Max can only manage a half gasp, half sob in response, but she still manages to make eye contact with Chloe, who gives her a sleazy grin and the most seductive bedroom eyes Max has ever seen.

“I think you’ve earned this.” Chloe breathes, then lowers herself down Max’s body, placing the occasional kiss and lick on the taut flesh of Max’s stomach. When she reaches the waistband of Max’s skirt, Chloe hitches the material up, fully exposing a pair of black lace panties.

Max silently thanks every single deity of every single pantheon she can think of that she wore her good underwear that day.

“ _Mm_. Nice.” Chloe says in appreciation. Then, she works her hands under Max’s butt, grips the lace edge and pulls the panties off in one smooth motion.

She’s greeted by wet, glistening folds, already tinged pink, and a neatly trimmed patch of hair running the length of Max’s pubic mound. Chloe breathes in, and is hit by the heady, thick scent of Max’s arousal. She finds it utterly intoxicating.

When Chloe’s tongue parts her soaked folds, all Max can do is throw her head back and cry out. Her hips buck involuntarily forwards, seeking more contact, which Chloe is more than happy to give her.

She runs her tongue around the edge of Max’s entrance, savouring the short moans continually spilling out of Max’s mouth. Then, after a few broad, slow strokes of her tongue, she moves upwards, seeking the little bundle of nerves that, judging by Max’s reactions so far, is going to tip her over the edge in no time at all. Chloe is delighted to see her clit is already engorged, straining under its hood.

The instant Chloe’s lips and tongue wrap around her clit, Max shouts Chloe’s name to the heavens. She rolls her hips, now incredibly conscious of the white-hot need to come that’s pulsating in her core.

“Chloe... Oh fuck...” She moans again.

Chloe smiles to herself, and begins lavishing Max’s clit with short, fast licks, drawing a series of kitten like mewls out of Max. She circles Max’s entrance, this time with a finger, and coats it in the juices collecting there. Then, ever so slowly, she pushes into Max’s sex. The inner walls grip her finger tightly, enough for her to feel every flutter of muscle movement. She begins moving, curling her finger in and out in a ‘come hither’ motion.

From the way Max is unconsciously bucking her hips and moaning loudly enough for the whole block to hear her, Chloe can’t help but let it fuel her ego, just a little bit. However, ego-fuelling can’t satisfy her own steadily more insistent needs. She wants to feel Max’s touch, but as Max is a gasping, shuddering mess right now, she suspects her lover won’t be much help.

Chloe reaches down with her free hand, and flicks open her jeans. She reaches straight into her panties, where she isn’t surprised in the slightest to find she’s wetter than Niagara Fall. With some inventive shimmying, she works her jeans off, allowing herself a lot more freedom. Though, before she can get to work on herself, Max’s moans take a turn for the desperate.

“Chloe. _Oh god_. I’m close. I’m so fucking close.” She manages get out between gasps. She reaches out, straining to take Chloe’s hand.

Chloe can’t blame her one bit. She withdraws her hand from her panties, and clasps Max’s reaching fingers between her own. She wraps her lips around Max’s clit and flicks the very end of her tongue against the sensitive bud, as fast as she can. At the same time, she adds another finger into Max’s tight, wet, rippling sex, and thrusts as hard as she dares.

Max lasts all of four thrusts before she can’t take it anymore. She cries out Chloe’s name as her vision explodes into tiny white stars, and her legs clamp around Chloe’s head, vibrating intensely with the sheer force of her orgasm. Her inner walls clench hard, and her release soaks Chloe’s mouth and chin.

Max isn’t sure how long her orgasm lasts, as her entire concept of time fades into meaningless soup, but when she opens her eyes and manages to lift her head, she finds Chloe smirking from in between her legs.

“Max like?”

“Holy fuck, Chloe.” Is all Max can say.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Chloe says, not without a fair amount of pride. She dips her head back down, and extends her tongue again. She performs several short, pattern-like licks, causing Max’s entire lower body to jerk.

“Chloe – ahh... What’re you doing? I’m sensitive.” Max half giggles, half gasps.

Chloe looks up again. “Signing my name. Isn’t that what you’re meant to do with works of art?”

Max snorts, and bursts into peals of laughter. “That is the corniest fucking thing I’ve ever heard!” She says between giggles.

Chloe rests her head on Max’s abdomen, enjoying the way it’s bouncing up and down from the giggle fit, which eventually subsides. “You done?” She says, with a wry smile.

“Yeah.” Max smiles back.

“Good. Because eating you out made me horny as fuck.” Chloe crawls up the bed, and lies sideways next to Max.

Max rolls over to face her, and they embrace, their bodies fitting together perfectly. Chloe immediately wraps her legs around Max’s thigh, bringing her wet core into contact with smooth skin.

Max giggles. “Feels like someone’s a little wet down there.”

“Just... _fuck_ – please just help me come.” Chloe moans, grinding her sex against Max’s thigh. The friction helps, but not by much.

It’s a blessed relief then, when Max guides her hand between their bodies, and slips it into Chloe’s panties. Her fingertips ghost across smooth, hairless skin, drawing tantalisingly close to their destination.

Chloe nearly cries when Max finally cups her, and runs a finger through slick folds that are all too eager to part for her.

Max wastes no time, sliding two fingers into clinging heat, the inner walls almost feeling like they’re sucking her fingers in.

A low, ecstatic moan makes its way out of Chloe’s throat, one that continues into a series of quiet gasps when Max slowly begins to pump her fingers in and out of her.

“Fuck, that feels good.” She breathes.

Max kisses her. “You’re pretty tight.” She whispers.

“You’ve got – _uhn_ – kegel exercises to thank for – _fuck me_ – that.” Chloe manages to say.

In response, Max pushes in as far as she can.

“Max!” Chloe moans, her hips rolling into Max’s hand. “Harder!” She demands.

Wordlessly, Max thrusts harder. For added measure, her thumb finds Chloe’s clit, and begins rubbing it in quick little circles.

“That’s it.” Chloe groans. “Right there. Fuck, you’re good at this.”

Max kisses her again, and bites Chloe’s lower lip. “I try.”

Chloe kisses back, moaning into Max’s mouth when she hits a particularly sensitive spot inside her. Seeking to reciprocate the wonderful things Max is making her feel, she works a hand between Max’s legs, going straight for her clit.

“Aah.” Max makes a noise. “Not so hard, I'm still a little sensitive.” Max says.

Chloe nods, and adjusts her touch. Soon enough, Max is undulating her hips again, and the room fills with both of their gasps and moans.

Her inner walls flutter, and suddenly Chloe can feel her release rapidly approaching. “Faster!” She begs Max. “ _Fuck_ , I wanna come so bad...” She screws her eyes shut and buries her head into Max’s shoulder, aggressively bucking her hips into Max’s hand.

“Look at me, Chloe.” Max orders her, even as she increases her pace. “I wanna see your face when you come.”

Chloe mewls, but obeys. She draws back a little, and locks eyes with Max. Seconds later, her orgasm hits her like an out-of-control train. Chloe cries out, her entire body shuddering and her inner walls clamping down on Max’s fingers. But she never looks away, maintaining eye contact with Max while she rides the high wave of her orgasm.

Max follows seconds later. She doesn’t come as hard as the first time, but Chloe can still feel her tense up, and a single high, strangled wail makes its way out of her as she climaxes.

When their respective highs fade, the only sound is two ragged sets breathing, heavy in the otherwise peaceful room.

Even though their bodies are radiating heat, and the sweat slicking their skin is turning sticky and clammy, neither woman is willing to end the embrace.

Chloe is the first to break the silence..

“Max... that was...”

Max smiles, and kisses her.

“Yeah, it was.” Max finishes for her. “You look so beautiful.” She whispers, taking in every detail of Chloe's post-coital expression. 

Chloe manages to smile through the exhaustion setting in. She leans in for another kiss.

Outside the bedroom, the record finishes playing, and spins away into silence.

 

********

 

Max wakes to something wonderfully warm and soft. She’s confused for a brief second, but then realises she’s wrapped in Chloe’s arms, with her head nestled between her breasts. She watches the one she can see for a while, admiring the soft curve and smooth skin.

Eventually, she yawns, and accidentally breathes out onto a dark pink nipple.

“Hm.” Chloe makes a noise. “That tickles.”

“Sorry.”

Chloe opens her eyes, and looks down at Max. “Comfy?” She asks.

“Yeah.” Max says contentedly. She cups Chloe’s breast, caressing the modest swell with her thumb. “Just admiring you.”

“I do have pretty great tits.” Chloe compliments herself without a trace of irony.

“So humble too.” Max teases her.

Chloe shrugs.

Max pushes herself up into a sitting position, and stretches, her limbs protesting at the sudden movement. “Ah.” She says, as the effects of gravity take hold. She turns to Chloe. “Bathroom?”

“Outside, first door on the right.”

“Thanks!” Max clambers off the bed and, naked, half-jogs to the door. She knows Chloe’s eyes are probably glued to her ass, a hypothesis confirmed when Chloe wolf whistles at her.

Max ignores her, though she can’t help but smile to herself.

When her morning ablutions are done, Max is again struck by just how nice the apartment is, miles removed from her own tiny place.

“OK, I’m gonna explode here.” She says as she re-enters the bedroom.

“Wait, I thought you only just peed?” Chloe says.

“No, not that.” Max corrects her. She sits down on the bed. “You gotta tell me what’s up with your place. I mean, it’s way nicer than anything I can afford.”

Chloe hesitates, obviously having some kind of internal debate. “Alright.” She relents. “I guess if I like you enough to put my tongue in your pussy, I can tell you.” She sits up and wraps her arms around her knees.

“Back when I was seventeen, I’d just gotten my first car. It was this beaten piece of shit truck that I fell in love with – I actually lost my v-card in it, in typical teenage romance fashion."

"Hella classy, Chloe." Max interrupts her. 

"You fucking know it.  Anyway, I was sat at an intersection, when a guy came flying out of fucking nowhere and t-boned me, right into a traffic pole.”

“Oh my god.” Max says, horrified.

Chloe continues, unfazed by her reaction. “I don’t remember anything after that, but apparently when the paramedics pulled me out of the wreck, I was saying I couldn’t move my legs. Turns out I’d broken my back, right across a lower vertebra.”

Max can only sit there, stunned.

“Anyway, the guy who hit me, I found out he was the son of some local CEO or something, a real rich asshole, and he’d been stoned off his ass when he drove into me. His daddy offered to pay me a fuckton of money to stop me from pressing charges, and since the doctors didn’t know if I was gonna walk again, I figured I’d take the money.” Chloe grimaces at the memory.

“So I was lying in the hospital one day, thinking about what life might be like going forward, when I just figured ‘fuck it’, you know? It’s at least worth trying. I knew my spinal cord was mostly intact, so there was a chance I could make it.”

She pats her legs. “It took me three years of physio before I could move properly again. Hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my life. Though I came away with a gnarly fucking scar.” She twists, and shows Max her back. A clean, perfectly horizontal scar runs directly across her lower spine.

“Before the accident, I’d always wanted to dance, but never had the time. So when I could walk again, that’s all I focused on, and eventually, I got good enough to start teaching, so I used some of the money to set up the class, and pretty big chunk renting this place.” She shrugs. “I lost three years of my life, so I figured I should at least use the money to make myself happy. Life owed me that, I think. So yeah, that’s my story.” She finishes, rather abruptly.

“Chloe...” Max says. She’s on the verge of tears.

“Hey, no, Max. It’s fine.” Chloe reassures her. “It happened years ago. I’m over it. Besides,” a coy grin spreads across her face, “If I hadn’t used the money to start the class, I wouldn’t have met you.”

Max chuckles, and wipes her eyes. “Flatterer.”

Chloe shuffles towards her, and takes Max into her arms. “Get used to it. There’s a lot more where that came from.”

“Oh?” Max raises her eyebrows. “So, if I’m gonna have to get used to this, does that mean this is a thing? Like, is this an ‘us’?”

Chloe, who had been leaning in to kiss her, stops. “I think so? I mean, I hella like you, and I’m pretty sure you feel the same way. So, uh, I’dliketobeyourgirlfriend. If that’s cool. Um.” She finishes lamely.

Max blushes redder than a lobster’s ass. “I wanna be your girlfriend too.” She confesses.

The two look at each other awkwardly, then break out into giggles.

“I think this calls for a celebration.” Chloe says. She pushes Max back down onto the bed, and spreads her legs, making her intentions abundantly clear.

Unfortunately for Chloe, Max’s stomach interrupts them with a loud rumble.

Max laughs. “Yeah, as much as I’d appreciate having sex with you, I might need food before that.”

Chloe sits up. “You make a good point.”

“Anything you specifically wanna eat? And don’t say ‘me’.”

“You- fuck!” Chloe exclaims, having been out-manoeuvred.

“Hah.” Max savours her victory. “So anyway, there’s this awesome little bagel place that I swear does the best salmon and cream cheese of all time.”

“Oh man, I’m a total sucker for salmon.” Chloe says, her own stomach grumbling now. She takes Max’s hand. “So I know we kinda skipped the first date stage by having awesome sex, but can this be a date? I’ve always wanted to take a cute girl for breakfast.”

Max kisses her, and for just a moment, nothing else exists outside of the two new lovers.

“Wowsers.” Chloe breathes.

Max smiles. “It’s a date.”

 

_The End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, yeah. That's it. I hope the kinda heavy stuff at the end didn't feel out of place (I tried to give it a decent set up, but you guys are a better judge of whether it's worked or not). I thought it would be interesting to kind of reverse Chloe and Max's financial situations, and to explore a Chloe who doesn't have money problems. And yes, you can probably work out just who drove into Chloe. 
> 
> With all the dancing stuff: all of the description is accurate, as I actually *am* a blues dancer/teacher. Weirdly, it's harder to describe it in narrative than it is to teach it. Also, I've read a number of dance based fics (usually swing or ballroom), and they've never gotten the details right, which is partly why I wanted to write this.
> 
> Anyway. The sex scene. It was originally way raunchier, but I rewrote it to be more intimate and a little more character focused, instead of just plain smut. Though a little more smut couldn't hurt if anyone wants a follow up to this.
> 
> As ever, leave a comment if you have something to say, even if it's just to tell me I suck :-D. And if you did like it, I have two other Pricefield series you might enjoy (one being a Star Wars crossover I'm having a blast writing). So thanks for reading, and I'll be back with more fics soon, including a Chasefield one :o. Peace out.


End file.
